The Perfect Moment
no one shows up & the parking lot is empty
& the light is frozen behind a bank of fog
& he’s parked next to dual dumpsters with
a red warning sign missing its first & last
letters “-o Parking At Any Tim-“ & the store
clerk drags out the garbage & gives him a dirty
look & throws stale pizza on top of the overpile
& a chortle of starlings descend on the pizza
with their yellow beaks poking down into the garbage
& he looks up to see two ravens swooping
in to drive off the starlings & he tries
to remember why he’s sitting there with
the engine running & the sun breaks through
above a bank of hackberry trees & a raucous
screeching fills the air as the ravens take control
of the rotting heap
6 thoughts on "The Perfect Moment"
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I like the way the poem looks like a scrap of something from the dumpster. I sit in my car with the engine running pretty often and liminal spaces near parking lots and bordering highways and convenience stores are favorites. This poem really works for me.
Dang, Jim! This poem rocks. It’s so itself. Totally delivers on its title.
What a poem. I was there with you and the starlings & ravens and the “rotting heap.”
I love the way the title–“The Perfect Moment”– contrasts with the actual moment & the ending of the poem–“of the rotting heap.” Or, alternately, readers could ask, “The perfect moment for what?” Nice.
It’s funny. I’m with both Kevin and t.m.
I love the title !
The poem itself really is the perfect moment and the way you paint the setting so- not!-sippin mai-tais on the beach.
A very well painted poem and it just puts us right there.
& you’re alone to witness the carrion feeders descend. Lock the car doors! I love anything you write!